Taming the Wicked Wulfe (The Rogue Agents) (38 page)

“I know,” she whispered, rolling onto her back and pulling him with her.
 
“Love me?”
 
Her hazel eyes met his brown ones.

“My pleasure,” he said.
 

She relished him taking her mouth deeply and passionately, branding her as his and his alone.
 
Rebekah felt the fortress she had firmly built around her heart all those years ago slowly start to crumble.
 
Just a little bit here and there, exposing her heart to feelings she thought never to know again.
 
She was not sure how it happened herself, perhaps the fact that he had gone to face her father as she knew he would have all those years ago, or that he had given her closure in regards to their son’s death.
 
She only knew that she desperately wished he could fill her emotional needs as well as the physical.
 
She allowed him to carry her body to new heights of rapture, enjoying what he did give her, and hoping that his words of commitment rang true.
 

Chapter 20

Rebekah woke slowly, peeling open one eye and then the other.
 
She lay sprawled on her stomach, her hair tangled about her.
 
The indentation next to her proved that someone had been there with her, but the coolness of the sheets gave proof that they had long since left the bed.
 
She rubbed her hand along the sheets, as if caressing the man that had resided there throughout the night.

“I had hoped you would wake before I had to leave,” a husky voice said.

Startled she twisted around to see Thorn sitting on a chair next to the bed, fully dressed, his right foot resting on his left knee.
 
Only then did she notice the sun was shining brightly into the room.
 
Rebekah raised up on her forearms, holding the sheet close to her breasts.
 
“Come back to bed,” she coaxed with a pout.

“Pouting is beneath you, wife,” Thorn chuckled.
 
“Something has come up and I must go to the
Lady Luck
.”

“I see.”

“Rebekah, you must remember that I still have a job to do.
 
A dangerous one, and I need my full sensibilities about me.”

“Are you saying that you might not come back to me and the twins one day?”

“It has happened before,” he said, a haunted note in his voice.

She quickly sat up, the sheets wrapped firmly about her body.
 
“You cannot continue this.
 
If not for me, then for the twins.
 
They have already lost enough in their young lives.
 
They do not need to lose you as well.”

“And what of you?”

“I will manage.
 
I always do.”

“Of course you do,” he slowly rose and took a few steps until he reached the high mattress.
 
He cupped her cheeks gently, rubbing his thumbs back and forth in a tender caress.
 
“I wish…”

“Yes?”

“Nothing,” he said, bending and kissing her in a gentle campaign that left her breathless and her heart pounding.
 
When he pulled away, her lips were dewy and her eyes sparkled with passion.
 
“Do not leave the house without someone going with you,” he instructed.

Her expression quickly changed.
 
“I can protect myself,” she huffed, pulling away.

“You turned a man into a eunuch!
 
If you had not had the gun,” he jammed his fingers through his hair, mussing it dreadfully.

“Don’t say you are worried about me.”

“Bloody damn right I am!”
 
He grabbed her upper arms, squeezing enough to make sure he had her attention.
 
“You and the children will stay in this bloody house unless you are escorted by at least three men.
 
Do you understand?”

“I would never endanger Zachary and Ivy,” she replied, trying to console him as she felt the tremor in the hands that gripped her.

“I know you wouldn’t, but you should have a little more care for yourself.
 
We would never manage without you.”

“Oh, I am certain Aimée would be more than willing to step in and fill my shoes.”

“How do you know about Aimée?
 
Did your father tell you about her?”

“How would the Reverend know her?” she queried looking at him as if he had lost his mind.

“You’re right,” he stepped away from her, breaking contact.

“Thorn, what are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.
 
Besides, it is not seemly for a husband and wife to discuss a mistress.”

“I thought you said she was an ex-mistress.”

“She is.”
 
He saw the suspicious look she gave him.
 
“I promise with my very being that she is.
 
It would take a man of Herculean strength to leave your bed and go to another woman’s.”

“I don’t know if that is a compliment or not.”

“I think I should leave before this conversation gets any worse.”

“Before you go,” she scrambled to her knees and dropped the sheet.
 
“I want you to fully remember who you are leaving behind, and who will be awaiting your return.”
 
She saw him take in a deep breath and his lips began to move.
 
“Are you counting?” she asked incredulously.
 
He merely nodded his head.
 
“Why ever for?”

“I’ll never know, because it bloody hell isn’t working,” he growled before crossing the room and sweeping her up in his arms.

***

Almost an hour later, Thorn raced from the room slamming the door shut behind him, late for whatever meeting he had been summoned to, and Rebekah could not scrape up the least little bit of guilt for being the cause.
 
She stretched languorously feeling both boneless and full of life at the same time.
 
How long had it been since she had felt truly happy like this?
 
Years?
 
Ever?
 
She knew how horrible that sounded, but she had been living in a state of melancholy ever since the accident, never facing what had happened, but always carrying it deep within her as a martyr would.
 
Thorn had made her acknowledge it, accept it, and move on.
 
She could not lie, even to herself, it still hurt, but it was manageable.
 
No longer did she feel like she was playing in the tide only waiting for it to carry her out to sea to be lost forever.

Not wanting to rise but knowing that somewhere in the house lurked two children who needed to see her and vice versa, encouraged her to leave the love nest that she and Thorn had created.
 
She pulled on a robe that was much too large for her.
 
Sometime during the night he must have left the room and retrieved his.
 
She pulled it on, and wrapped it tightly about her, breathing deeply of the sandalwood scent he left behind on it.
 
Rebekah walked to the bell pull, tugging firmly.
 
Crossing to the window, she awaited a response to her summons.
 
She did not have to wait long as a soft tap sounded at the door.

Firming her resolve, she called, “Enter.”
 
You have nothing to be ashamed of
, she cajoled herself.
 
You are a married woman.
 
“I would like a bath prepared,” she told the maid that had come to her room.

“Of course,” the other woman bobbed a curtsy without ever truly looking her in the face.
 

Rebekah felt a flush steal across her body.
 
“The whole bloody house probably knows what we’ve been doing,” she said to the empty room.
 
“Of
course
they do, silly, you
are
married and should have been doing it weeks ago,” Rebekah answered herself.
 
“Now I’m talking to myself and answering myself,” she shook her head in dismay.
 
Forcing herself to push aside any bit of awkwardness, she vowed not to cower.
 
“Let people think what they will,” she encouraged herself.
 
“You bloody idiot, you’re married!” she growled in frustration.

***

After a long soak and fresh clothes, she felt much more like the old Rebekah.
 
The one that did not talk to herself.
 
The one that knew exactly what needed to be done to run a household, and take care of two lively children.
 
She walked up the stairs to the nursery floor above to see said children.
 
She had already broken her promise to them.
 
It had been almost two full days since she had spent any time with them.
 
Rebekah braced herself for the worst as she opened the nursery door.

They lay in their night clothes, cuddled next to each other in one of the beds, taking turns reading to one another.
 
The sight made her heart skip a beat and brought the sting of tears to her eyes.
 
She found herself rapidly blinking to keep them at bay.
 
“What are you two rapscallions reading?” Rebekah asked a bit hoarsely.

“Aunt Bekah!” the kids exclaimed in unison.
 
The book ended up in the floor and the children in Rebekah’s arms.

“Here now,” she said, squeezing them tightly and rubbing their backs.
 
“It’s only been a day or so,” she soothed.

“We were worried,” Ivy said, squeezing her aunt’s neck tightly.
 
Rebekah could feel the wetness of tears on her neck.

“You never cry,” Zachary seconded.

“I was very sad for a bit, but I never meant to worry the two of you,” she pulled back, and caressed their cherubic faces and played with curls that sprung around their heads.
 
Zachary’s were shorter than Ivy’s, but looked very much in the Byronic style.
 
If he were twenty years older, he would have every eligible woman, and some that were not, swooning at his feet.
 
“I lover you both dearly,” she said, wiping away Ivy’s tears.

“We love you, too,” the children answered together.

“Uncle Thorn came by this afternoon,” Zachary said.

“He did?” Rebekah asked, surprised.
 
How had he managed to bathe, dress,
and
come see the children?

“Yes,” Ivy said.
 
“He spent a lot of time with Zach,” she huffed, sticking her lower lip out in a pout.

You are going to have men wrapped around your finger
, Rebekah thought, wishing the day as far off as possible.
 
“I am sure he will spend plenty of time with you next time, poppet,” she said, dropping a kiss on the girl’s nose.
 
And if he does not, he will live to regret it
, she thought, already devising ways in which she could get back at him for breaking a little girl’s heart.
 
“Now, how about we crawl back on that bed and finish that book?”
 
The children nodded enthusiastically.
 
Together, they all three climbed on the bed, Rebekah in the center with a twin tucked close on either side.

By the time she had finished the story, both children had fallen asleep.
 
She set the book aside, and gently let her fingers play with their silken locks.
 
It soothed her restlessness.
 
Rebekah looked down and smiled at how innocent they appeared in sleep.
 
She knew from first-hand experience that they could be the complete opposite when awake.
 
It was then that she realized she wanted this for herself.
 
She loved the twins beyond reason, but she wanted her own child to love, cuddle, and care for.
 
The childbirth aspect was worrisome, especially considering her past.
 
Rebekah did not want children right away.
 
She and Thorn were still learning each other.
 
A child did not need to be thrown into a relationship that currently only had two things going for it—a shared love for two children not their own, and the intimacy they shared in bed.
 
Besides, even Thorn admitted his life was still in danger.
 
No, best we wait
, she thought before snuggling down with the twins, and drawing them close before falling asleep.

***

Thorn took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
 
He heard a muffled, “Enter.”
 
He slipped into the room and saw several men gathered around the table.
 
Director McKenzie sat at the head of the table.
 
He recognized one of the men from the dinner he had attended at Gertrude’s house with Rebekah.
 
He dredged his memory for a name.
 
Gray? No, that wasn’t it.
 
Grantham? No.
 
Graham!
 
Yes, Graham, the inventor.
 

“You’re late,” McKenzie looked up at him briefly.

“Unavoidable.”